Eloquence
by FanSlewFantasy
Summary: You may Recognise this fic. SuFin, Yaoi themes. Sweden struggles with his expression and Finland talks too much. naturally, this creates misunderstandings and tension in their relationship. Fluffy like a fluffy thing with fluff.


**~ELOQUENCE~**  
>A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfiction*Presented by FanSlewFantasy 2011<br>_SwedenxFinland _***PG13*  
>~FLUFF~ROMANCE~ANGST~SENSUAL TOUCHING~SWEETNESS~<strong>

**...**

_ja, here it is.  
>reposted from my old account is the fic i put off taking down for three months, because it had thirty reviews and about a hundred favourites. without further ado, (and the reminder that i dont own hetalia) i present to you all Eloquence, with love.<em>

...

…if everyone thought before they spoke the silence would be deafening…

I love him.

I love his smile, and his bright sparkly eyes. I love his hair, and the way he laughs like silver bells dangled on pretty blue ribbons. I love the way his cheeks pinken when he's cold, or embarrassed, or when I look at him, and I love his size, how he's so small and delicate… like a little doll. But most of all, I love his nature. Gentle and friendly and sweet. I love waking up to him and I love making dinner with him and I love going for walks with him in the summer.

In the winter, I love to sit in front of the fire, watching his pretty lips form words I wish I could say with ease. His voice is poetic; he can express anything on his mind so beautifully. Like a magic mirror he retells stories, the tales are reflected in his expressions and his moods. Like a bird he sings sweet songs and tales, he lulls me to sleep with stories of romance and courage. An artist, he paints pretty pictures, diamonds sparkle on his lips. Angels settle to hear his words, and the sweet laughter that he punctuates them with.

But when I try to spin words of gold, they come out chunks of lead, thudding gracelessly onto the cold floor of a platonic marriage.

…The most important thing in communication is hearing what isn't being said…

"Berwald?"

"Wha'?"

"Erm… Christmas is coming up."

"Ye'"

"Well, did you have anything you wanted?" he slipped into bed beside me, his nightshirt was loose and almost transparent in the candle light.

"Nei." I turned the ruddy page of my book and he sighed.

"Are you sure? You never ask anything from me, you know. You never talk to me. I can't read your mind."

"I 'no tha'."  
>"So help me out here!"<p>

I gazed at him helplessly, unable to find the words.

One thing… one thing I want for Christmas…

What does anyone want, of course? The lips of their one truest love, petal pink and honeyed. Cobwebs jewelled with crystal dew to place like bracelets on his wrists or a satin robe to describe the sweeps and curves of a flawless body. Maybe a little coronet, platinum and gleaming nestled in blonde hair, maybe a looking glass in which he can see himself how I do. So that he can understand how I feel inside.

"S'allri' I d'nt w'nt anyt'ng."

"Are you sure?"

"Ye'"

He sighed and lay down beside me, in his favoured foetal position. I pulled the blankets up to cover him and he smiled a weak, 'just friends' smile, before closing his eyes and letting an expression of blank rest overtake glorious features. I closed my book, removed my glasses and set them on the bedside table.

"G'night Tino."

"Mmm. Goodnight."

I blew out the candle, plunging us both into darkness.

And that was it. The rhythm of our lives.

We had been married for centuries, Tino and I. trapped in a stalemate union where my love blossomed bigger and brighter every day, and he remained just as unreadable and overly pleasant. Like a little servant.

Sighing deeply, I rolled onto my one side and blinked into the blackness of the night. It was snowing outside. I could hear the breath of wind beyond the windows of our home, the still, heavy silence of winter. Beside me his breathing was soft and regular.

Maybe, tonight would be one of the rare nights I would be brave enough to roll over and wrap my arms around him. Perhaps. Sometimes I managed to do so much, and he never complained. But I wished he would at least say something when he wakes up in my embrace the next morning. His silence is probably just as discouraging as a flat no. possibly even more so.

I worried my lip, curling into a small ball and tucking the blankets firmly under my chin. The evening thoughts plagued me more in the winter, when my body longs for closeness and intimacy. Thoughts of him, stumbling beside me through times good and bad. The way his face blanched when I looked at him… Even The affectionate name, Su-san, which echoes a little in its emptiness. At first the sound was valuable, but now it is hollow to me. At first it was a beacon of hope, something new, something closer. It didn't take long for me tor realise that we would grow no closer. That that was as it was. I would forever remain perched on the border of friend and teammate. Nothing more.

With that sobering thought lingering at the back of my mind, I was lured into the shallow land of sleep.

…It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood…

_I can't hear you…_

_Those words, lifted lightly by his tone, echo in the space. My eyes flicker open, I stand, but on what I'm not quite sure. The light is obscure, it seems to be shattered, and sound is blurred… distorted. Dizzying._

"_Tino"_

"_I till cant hear you…"_

_A flickering shape. His smile, formed by the air wavering before my eyes. He solidifies, a ghostly body becoming real. I open my mouth, but no words come out. Only bubbles. Clear, fat, glistening soap bubbles. The sparkle and float happily before bursting on the air. He shakes his head, and I realise that his hands are clasped firmly over his ears. "I still can't hear you."_

_I try to yell, but all I yield is a bubble. Clear, swirled with the rainbow and shivering. Exploding soundlessly, and spattering all over my face._

… Man was given one mouth and two ears, so that he may listen twice as much as he speaks…

"Tino s'okay."

"No its not! I know its here somewhere!"

"Do'snt matt'r."

"It does too! Please, just shush for a sec and let me think." he fisted his hands on his hips and stared around the bedroom angrily. "I got it specially, and I want you to have it because- ah ha!" he bustled over to the drawer below the window. "I just remembered. I put it here so the dog wouldn't find it." He pulled the drawer open roughly and turned on me. I was slightly taken aback by the glint in his eye.

"Here." He thrust whatever it was in my face. A medium sized package wrapped in blue crepe paper and tied very prettily with a silver ribbon. "Merry Christmas."

"I…" I stared at the box hopelessly. "I didn' get y' 'nythin'."

"Shhh. That's not important. I got you something. Here." He waved it around a bit and it rattled a little. Insistent and bothersome. "Please take it. Please."

I frowned and took the box, unsure what to do. He sighed in relief and seemed to relax.

"y'no Tino, y' don' need ta-"

"Open the box please, Berwald!" I noticed a soft, desperate whine in his voice. Why was he doing this? Was he trying to please me or something? I fingered the ribbon and tried not to think he's making an offering. Trying to placate a non-existent beast with whatever is inside.

If he gives me things, I will be kind, right? I will be benevolent.

I won't crush him with cold silence.

I winced and pulled the ribbon.

The crepe paper crinkled crisply as I pulled it from the box. The lid was loose and I popped it off with ease. Inside was a handkerchief and a pair of silver cuff links. Horrible, impersonal little things that looked expensive and meant nothing. I swallowed and tried to find words to say. In my peripheral vision, I saw him worry his lip, hands tucked between his knees nervously. He sat a little away from me on the edge of the bed.

"What do you think?"

I picked up one of the cuff links, trying to ignore the horrible bruised feeling that such a useless, generic present had imprinted on my gut. It was plain as rock. Small, silver, completely ordinary. No decoration or anything. Given with insight and empathy, it could be a good present. Tasteful, sophisticated, handsome. Good for a man with fine taste and a neat life. But no good for me, with the heart that ached for beautiful things and wished for nothing more than that sparkle I seemed to lack.

These heavy, dull-in-their-ironically-shiny-way items were not what I wanted at all. Not what I needed.

The handkerchief was even less remarkable. White, cotton. Crisply folded.

I placed the links and the handkerchief back in the box and replaced the lid.

"Thank y' Tino."

He sighed and relaxed.

"So you like it?"

I stared straight at him and his expression faltered. I studied his face shamelessly, as it switched from relief to discomfort to full blown anxiety.

"What? You do like it don't you? Please like it?"

"I…"

"Oh god you hate it don't you? I'm sorry!" he stood up and grabbed the box from my lap. "Please don't be angry, Su-san, I just wanted to get you something. And I didn't know what to get so I just grabbed this and I'm sorry!"

I opened my mouth to speak again, but he cut me off.

"Look, its okay. I will go take it back and get you something better, okay?"

"Tino-"

"I still have the receipt and everything. Don't worry, it's fine."

"Tino, lis'en!" I accidently raised my voice and he dropped the box in shock. Fuck. I didn't mean to scare him, but it was the only way to stop him talking. "I don' hate it at'l. It's jus' n't wha' I want'd."

Oh god… he was looking at me like I'd just sprouted a third head. As though I may just be some kind of monster. Oh god. Oh god…

He bent down, face flushed, and hurriedly picked up the box.

"I'm sorry." He stumbled backward, almost bowing his way out the door. "I'm really, really sorry Su-san. I have to go… I have to go and deliver…"

And before I could tell him what I really wanted, he was out of the bedroom. I could hear him running down the hall and out the door.

He let the thing slam shut behind him.

On the verge of breaking down, I swallowed.

"I jus' want'd you…"

…The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place…

The two of us sat in silence, sharing Christmas dinner, pushing food around our plates awkwardly.

"More gravy?" he offered me the boat and I nodded, not wanting to meet his eyes.

The meal was delicious. Perfectly cooked and completely traditional. I simply adore how Fin takes on Christmas. He reins it in so well, revelling in the gifts and the food and the everything. His deliveries are hard on him, yet still he makes such an effort to ensure our celebration is premium too. Though his under eyes are shadowed, and his hand shakes a little with exhaustion as he eats, he can rest well tonight knowing that he has produced yet another excellent Christmas for all the world.

Well, usually he could anyway.

I tell myself I am imagining the dullness in his eyes tonight. The discontent I see smouldering away there, caused by my rejection of his unsuitable gift. I stare at my plate as I eat, sensing him watching me through a fan of lowered and bashful lashes. When I look up, he is gazing pointedly at the carved leg of lamb in the centre of the table as though it conceals the meaning of life.

Once all the food is eaten, there is no excuse. I clear my throat.

"sh'ld I cle'n up?"  
>"No, no! No, its okay. Let me." he stood quickly, crumpling his napkin and throwing it down on his plate. I could only watch blankly as he bustled around, clearing the table. He fumbled a little with the glasses. I stood too, to help him, and had to gasp when he spotted me and dropped the vessels in shock.<p>

"Oh dear! Oh, I'm sorry Su-san, I didn't mean to!" he bent down and began frantically picking broken glass off the floor. "God I'm so clumsy. Anyway, you go and watch TV, I will sort this out, there's a good movie on tonight I-"

He fell short on the speaking when I too crouched and began picking up glass.

"Oh, no. its okay, Berwald! Really, I've got this."

"I wan' t'elp."

"No, no go and watch TV. I-"

"I. Want. To. help." It was hard to push the words out clearly. It took a lot of effort, and it must have shown on my face because he blanched, eyes fixed on me with fear.

"… Okay."

We finished picking up the glass and I held out my hands for the shards he had collected. Hesitantly, he deposited them in my cupped palms. They clinked and chinked together, sparkling in the warm light.

"Go sit by th' fire." I told him firmly. "I'll clear th' t'ble."

"It's okay, I can-"

"Sit!" another forced word, once again thrown out a little too powerfully. Wide fearful eyes glancing over me again, he scurried away and I sighed.

He didn't understand! He didn't get me. He didn't… I just…

I longed to be able to ease the fear he wears, a perpetual mask. I wished I could get him to _listen_ to me when I speak, rather than just arguing out of fear. I wished I could just say the things that mess in my thoughts all day and night. If only if only…

I placed the shards of glass on my empty plate and carried it, as well as a stack of other dishes, through to the small cottage kitchen. The ceiling was low, I had to crouch to stand inside, and bending to place dishes in the washer one by one was uncomfortable. I heard the television switch on in the next room, the unmistakeable voice of Alfred's Tim Allen in 'the Santa Clause' filling the house as it always did. Every Christmas since the damn film was made.

Tasteful Fin switched channels immediately.

"I l've y'." I murmured the words under my breath, the sound of them flooding my face with heat. "I L-ove y-o-u. Ah love you…" it didn't sound right, no matter how I pronounced it. If I said it fully, it sounded angry and forced and intimidating, and I suspected I would shout it in his face. If I said it normally, it stumbled ungracefully from my lips and sounded childlike and awkward.

It was imperative I mastered it. It had been too long we had been living like this, and I feared that if it went on much longer, he would run away from me. He needed to know. He needed to…

"Fin. I. love. You." I stood up and tried again, whispering them softly, barely audibly and paying careful attention to how they felt on my tongue. "I. love-"

My practice was cut short by a clink and a soft throat clearing. I spun around and hit my head on the ceiling in shock.

"I brought the last of the dishes."

Tino edged in and began placing them one by one in the dishwasher. I watched dumbly, disbelief that he hadn't listened to my request prickling at the back of my eyes. Not only that, but had I been speaking a tad louder, he would have heard my confession. It was obvious from his tense shoulders and jumping glance, he was still edgy and anxious. Still fearful.

"Fin, I said go si'd'wn."

"No, here. Look, it's all done now, we can sit and watch TV together, okay?" a faint smile, filmy and shy and twitchy. "There's nothing good on after all, but why not right? There's nothing else to do."

He reached for my wrist and pulled softly, hopefully. "We can watch 'the Santa Clause' again, hm? Sound okay?"

I looked to his little hand. It barely wrapped around my wrist. His fingers were beautiful and slim, tipped with perfect oval nails. My hands were big and clumsy, my nails chewed to square stubs. Despite this tragic mismatch, I longed to link them with his, to feel the softness of his palm against the calluses and blisters in mine.

"Nei." I murmured, still staring at his hand. "I d'nt wan' t' watch TV."

His hand twitched.  
>"Oh… okay." He released me and the hand he had been holding mine with brushed a lock of gold away from his forehead. "Well, goodnight then."<p>

He wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the floor, waiting for me to leave or do something. I paused too, unsure if I should follow through with what was becoming a stupider and stupider request by the minute.

"g'nig…" I trailed off, looking at his face shadowed by his hair. He had his eyes closed, lips turned downward and trembling a little. The sight wrenched my heart.

"Wait. I d'nt wan' t' go to bed y't." my shaking hand reached for his and plucking bravery I didn't realise I had from the deepest most darkest place in my psyche, I took it and gave a soft squeeze. "I… I wan' y' t' t'lk t' me."

"You what?"

"Tell me a st'ry." I looked pointedly at the tiles above the porcelain sink. They were old and white, stained a homely rust colour down the bottom to a not entirely unpleasant effect. If anything, the sight made the house seem warmer and cosier. "I l'ke listn'ng t' y' st'rys."

My thumb caressed the side of his hand. The texture of his skin was delicious and smooth, like whipped cream. He blinked up at me in astonishment and I felt myself blush.

"If y' d'nt wan' t'…"

"No! I will, I want! I mean… of course I will."

His face broke into the first true smile I had seen him wear since the winter began. "Nothing would make me happier."

…The more elaborate our means of communication, the less we communicate…

I turned off the television and sat down on the sofa facing the fireplace. The dog was asleep on the end of the sofa, Tino frowned at her when he returned from the kitchen carrying a bowl filled with Salmiakki and a bottle of wine.

"Ohkay then…"

"H're." I grabbed a cushion from behind me and plonk it on the ground beside my leg. "Ri' in front of th' f're."

"Right, right. Takk." He blushed and bustled over, sitting down with his back against the edge of the sofa and his shoulder pressing against my legs. "Take this will you? I don't want to spill it on the carpet."

I obliged, and set the still corked bottle on the side table.

It was a small little lounge room, painted a cheerful yellow and decorated with homely things like paintings and photos and knick knacks. The fireplace and television to the left dominated one wall, the sofa backed against the one opposite, and a large fluffy rug filled the floor space between the two, insulating feet from chilly wooden floors. His Christmas tree was in the corner, by the door, and the curtains at the bay window were drawn shut. He stretched out his legs, and rested his heels on the hearth to warm his feet.

"Salmiakki?" he offered me the bowl of candy and I shook my head, removing my glasses and combing my fingers thoughtlessly through his hair. The action surprised us both. He froze, and I paused to look at my hand as though it may just be possessed.

"Um…" he fingered his newly arranged fringe nervously and peeked up at me from over his shoulder. "Okay?"

"S'rry." I looked away, into the heart of the crackling fire, and focused on the warmth and cosiness in the room. All that was missing to make the place perfect was…

"Hang on, lemme just get the lights." He bounced back up again, spilling his sweets all over the carpet and swearing under his breath.

"I'll d' it." I plucked the small black diamonds from the carpet one by one and dropped them back into the bowl, where they clinked happily on the glass. Dimness descended on the room when he flicked the switch, and I looked up, immediately struck by his absolute beauty in that moment.

Firelight wrought orange glow into his sweet features, the twinkle of the golden lights on the Christmas tree silhouetted a body of liquid melting beauty, like molten bronze poured and twisted into the glittering shimmering form of a man. A sweet, delicious waist, curving gracefully into legs that stretched long and slim, his shoulders sweeping and willowy, hair a neat little toss of metallic tress hanging in his face.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, hugely awkward about the press of my hardening dick in my pants. He didn't notice or mind, resting his hand on my knee so as to lower himself easily onto his cushion. I passed him the bowl of sweets and he murmured a quick thanks.

"So what shall I tell you about?" he rested his head on the side of my thigh and looked up and behind at me. His wide eyes were inviting, I swallowed the feeling of fear and hoped the intimacy of the fire would make the action of touching his cheek a little more acceptable. He did not panic, which was certainly a start.

"'nyth'ng." I assured him, stroking his face again a little more confidently. His skin... once more I am taken by thoughts of how Soft it is. How soft and subtle and flawlessly smooth. "Jus' t'lk."

He smiled and snuggled against me more.

I nursed his hair softly, as he told me stories of kings and queens and wars and loves. He wove tales of bravery, ones he had picked up from all over the world as we had travelled, his lips forming delightful pictures and his eyes glittering in the fireglow. His silky blonde hair felt divine in my hand, a few cautious strokes at first became a repetitive petting, occasionally he would halt his speaking, and just let me pet him silently, faintly smiling, lost in thought. I ran my nails to the back of his neck and he squirmed deliciously.

"wo'ld y' like a b'ckrub?" I murmured, scratching the nape, his fine hairline, ever so gently. He stopped his squirming and froze, chin held in a strange position, giving me easier access to his neck. Soft whimpers issued forth from his mouth, his eyes fluttered a little.

"y-yes please."

I stopped scratching his neck and opened my legs, hoping quite desperately my erection would not return. "s't h're then. So I c'n reach y'."

"Mmm." He shuffled around, popping a few pieces of salimakki into his mouth, and sat with his back to me, right up between my legs.

"R'dy?" I placed my hands on his shoulders and he nodded.

The soft crackle of the fire was interrupted only by the even softer whimpers and utterances he gave when I kneaded a particular knot or muscle just right. He bore a lot of tension in his neck, and upon releasing it he began moaning gently, tilting his head and gripping my ankles either side of him impossibly tight.

"Su-san…" his sigh was positively liquid with indescribable warmth, and I closed my eyes then, savouring the feel of him beneath my fingers, the scent of his sweat and hair and skin.

"Oh, Su-san yes…" another, more breathless moan, he let his head roll back. When I opened my eyes once more his face was turned to me, lips full, eyes half lidded, forehead shined with sweat no-doubt coaxed there by the heat of the fire. "Yes. That feels so good right there… oh god yes Berwald…"

I dug my thumbs in deeper, really pressing into the muscles beneath his shoulder blades and loosing myself completely in his sensation. Every muscular twitch he made, every blissful sigh, shuddered through me. My hands milked ecstatic noises from him, raw and full sounds that ignited unnamed emotions in me.

I squeezed my legs on either side of him and moved forward, so the back of his head was against my chest. My hands continued their work on his shoulders and neck, his body moving ever so slightly in time with my massage. Shoulders rolling, chest rising and falling. He sunk into my touch and body, leaning hard against my stomach, sliding down the floor.

Now his shoulders were flush with my hipbones, I could no longer reach. I settled immediately for his hair instead, combing it and tugging it softly, scratching his scalp a little and watching his face with absolute ardour.

Eyes closed, lips darker than before and parted subtly, I wondered if the pink on his cheeks was because of the heat or the feeling of my hands in his hair. His breathing was slightly irregular, but soft, his hands squeezed my ankles gently.

"D-don't stare." A breathtaking violet eye cracked open, screen of hay blonde eyelashes glimmering faintly. An embarrassed smile, he squeezed his eyes shut again and tossed his head, nudging until I was scratching behind his right ear. "It's humiliating."

"I th'nk it's beautiful…" I murmured. Whether or not he heard me it was hard to tell, because at that exact moment he let out a startling moan and buried his face completely in the side of my leg. I paused my petting.

"Don't stop!" he mumbled, peeking up at me shyly. "That just… took me by surprise."

"Wha'?" I repeated what I did before, rubbing the shell of his ear lightly, and he muffled another keen. "d'es it feel g'd?"

He nodded; I tried it again, swallowing anxiously at his reaction. Sexy… the only word that leapt to mind. Absolutely ruthlessly sexy.

"Okay, Tino." blushing a little, I nudged him in encouragement to stand. "I'm g'ing t' bed."

His surprised, puppy dog look made the back of my neck tingle.

"But Su-san, I haven't finished talking."

"Come. y' can t'lk me t' sleep."

…Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee, and just as hard to sleep after...

I didn't need to do anything; he slid right into bed beside me and made himself cosy against me.

Numb with shock at my good fortune, I wrapped my arms around him and cradled his head to my chest. His hair tickled my collarbone. His breath ghosting my bare breast was shiver inducing.

"Keep playing with my hair and I will keep telling you a story." I heard the smile in his voice, as opposed to seeing it. Without my glasses, I wasn't the best at night vision. Or day vision. Or vision in general.

Feeling slightly, only ever so slightly, put on the spot, I resumed brushing out tangles and fiddling with locks of his glorious hair.

A contented sigh is my payment, the subtle reciprocation of his own hands sliding up to my collarbone and tracing the shape with subtle fingers.

"So anyway, as I was saying…"

And he was off again, speaking quickly in a blur of Finnish, Swedish and English, describing castles and lands unexplored.

It was usually easy to loose myself in his stories, but that day, for some reason, as soon as he opened his mouth I was riveted. Like a puppy tracking a scent, focused completely on the flavour that fills the mouth, alone in the world except for that one smell, that one voice leads me on.

I saw an ocean bowing before me, he told me of waves that whip and winds that howl, of pirates and storms and men lost at sea in the velvet blue of night. Of ghosts ships spun in glassy silver smoke, illuminated by a frozen moon, and beloveds waiting on sandy shores for reunions that will never come. Pirates turned to wiccans, gathering in fields of long eclectic green grass, whispering as the wind echoed their chants in the cloth of white robes. Wiccans turned to conquistadors, raping lands and claiming homes, who turned to ancients living in desert lands in harmony with nature full and rich. His words stepped from the earth soon, ascending starry stairs to the heavens and exploring nebulas and dying suns, planets swirled with astral dust and spinning like crystal marbles on the black table of existence.

"… The void is dark, and there is no sound there at all. But it is dense. Filled with the meaning and matter of a billion planets and solar systems, curving everything that surrounds it. You can't see it, but it is ever present, and growing bigger and bigger. No-one knows what's on the other side at all, but I think it is light and white and completely blindingly beautiful. Like falling into deaf oblivion without heed and finding yourself in heaven itself. Peaceful heaven, where the force of angels render words pointless and all that matters is the fact you _exist._

What do you think Su-san?"

"hmm?" I let one of my hands glide from his hair downwards, to the span of his shoulder blades, and rest there. His skin was a slightly different texture, a little oilier and warmer, but just as divine.

"What do you think heaven is like?"

"um…" I pulled my thoughts together and smooth a lock of his hair down. "I dun'o." his smell flooded my mind, sweet and gentle. "sm'lls like h'ney. Brigh' n' peac'ful."

"mmm. I like the idea of heaven being still and quiet." He rubbed my chest, unfocused. My arm he lay across was beginning to tingle, I shifted it a bit and he cuddled back down in the space between the side of my chest and the crook of my arm. His nose pressed close to a nipple, but I tried not to notice.

Fin kept talking, though more periodically now, and briefer. While he entertained thoughts of various, daily things of little importance, I receded into the dominion of sensation. I focused my attention on the senses.

His frame was incredibly light, I noted dully. Legs twined with mine were slender and smooth, curving upwards into jutting hips. His stomach a flat expanse, I dared to slide my hands lower, to his hips, and explore the soft lines of his waist. A little padding, enough to render him soft and ticklish. He giggled brightly when I touched him and squirmed.

"Su-san!"

I smiled and tickled him a little more.

Little giggles gave ways to muffled laughter, irregular breathing, he flailed his arms and struggled to escape me with no success. He gasped my name between breaths, shrieking when my fingers teased the flat of his stomach.

"I d'dnt know y' w're ticklish." I couldn't help but grin into the dark like and idiot. he clawed at my chest and buried his teary face in my neck, shaking with giggles.

"Well it's not the kind of thing you tell someone, or otherwise the use it against YOU!" he shrieked the last word when I pushed him over and tickled him again, laughing in gales and struggling to escape my grip.

"Use it ag'inst y'? Never…" I pinned him down and worked my fingers up his chest and to his neck, he seemed to be indecently ticklish around his shoulder blades, whining and crying and gasping for breath. I laughed and relented, when I thought he had had enough. We lay there in silence, he caught his breath.

Sighing, still bubbling with small chuckles, he rolled over and cosied close to me again. I wrapped my arms around him and brushed his fine beautiful hair smooth.

Touching him was like flying, feeling his body so close to mine was the most incredible thing I've ever felt. And every time it happened it was like I was feeling for the first time.

My chest ached deliciously, my lips ghosted the crown of his head and I closed my eyes, listening to him breathe. I matched it, and let him lull me into the dark.

…Kind words can be short and easy to speak but their echoes are truly endless…

The next few days passed in what seemed like a dream. Fin smiled so much, lighting up the whole house with his radiance. He hummed as he worked, making food and cleaning. On the third day, he dropped himself, swaddled in jackets and a scarf, into my lap while I was reading and held out a beanie. A blue and cream one with tassels and ear flaps.

"Wha'?"

"Come for a walk with me. The snow has stopped and it's a little cold, but I'm sick of staying inside all the time."

Sure enough, a glance out the window showed drifts of snow in an expanse of white, evergreen trees groaning under the weight of untouched, glittering ice. I placed my book down and took the hat from him.

"Not t' l'ng, okay?"

"Yes, yes." He waved his hand dismissively and hopped up. "Hurry up, before I get to cold and decide I don't want to."

I sighed and stood, towering over him and guiding him gently backward so I could get past.

"Put s'me good shoes on bef're we go." I looked at the sneakers he wore, frowning. They would be no good on snow or ice. He rolled his eyes.

"They are fine, Su-san. Come on." He skipped backward and dashed down the hall to the door. I pulled on some snow boots and a coat and followed him.

The cold outside was crystalline, still and icy and light. It was the sort of cold that thinned the air. That made it hard to breathe and sucked hot blood from your core to capillaries in your cheeks. Fin smiled at me and reached for my coat. His fingers did the buttons neatly, and I took those bare, beautiful hands in mine and squeezed them softly.

"Y' h'nds 're cold."

"They are fine, don't worry." He pulled them away and turned his back to regard the world beyond our doorstep. It was beautiful, yes. Undeniably so. But as I stood beside him I couldn't help but think the warm blush on his cheek was prettier, that the pale cream of his skin was much more clean and twinkly than the glimmering snow. His puffed pink lips curved into a gentle smile, a soft wind lifted his hair off his face. When he sighed, mist danced on his breath.

"Come on then." He bounced a little and stepped out into the snow.

We crunched through drifts and piles for a while until we found the ice slicked path that wove by our house and through the small woods behind it. My boots found grip on the trail, but I worried for him and his sneakers. They slipped a little, though he kept balance well.

"Fin, b' careful w'nt y'?"

"I'm _fine_." He insisted, tossing hair out of his eyes and sending me a dirty look. "What, do you think I cant take care of myself."

"I n'ver said th't."

"You were thinking it." He jammed his hands into his pockets and sighed. "Geeze, Sweden, I'm not a kid."

"I kn'w." I tried to wind my arm with his subtlety, to help him stand when he slid a little, but he jerked backwards.

"Hey, I said I'm fine." An eyebrow arched coldly and I shied away, looking at the ground instead. "Now hurry up, its getting nippy. We will just walk the usual loop and then when we get back id like a bath I think…"

And he was off.

I listened to him as we walked, gazing at his feet and willing them not to slide. It was only snow, but I didn't want him to trip or slip or anything. Call it a stupid mothering instinct, call it whatever you like, but I knew he was tempting fate by wearing gripless thin sneakers.

Unfortunately, he noticed.

"Sweden are you even listening to me?"

We had walked the whole loop without me even noticing.

I looked up at his scowling face. His arms were folded tightly, he was shivering.

"Huh?"

"No, see, I knew it. Why don't you ever _listen_ to me?"

"I do l'sten t' y' Tino."

"What was I just saying then?"

I blinked at him dumbly.

"Exactly!" he stomped his foot, it slid and he stumbled, catching himself on me and trying to regain his footing. "You weren't listening and now you made me trip. Why don't you ever listen?"

"I do listen!" I told him firmly, putting as much thrust behind the words as I could, so as not to trip on them. "You talk too much!"

When I saw his expression, I realised that once again, I had forgotten myself and raised my voice. Not only that, but what I had meant to say came out all wrong. Completely wrong. Id spat out the exact opposite to what I'd intended.

_Or did I?_

His bottom lip trembled, eyes welling, fear all over his pink face.

Wordlessly, head bowed, he stepped past me and hurried up the last of the path to our house. My mouth opened and closed to no effect, I struggled to find words in the thin air. I turned to follow him, lumbering gracelessly through ice and snow, but by the time I got inside he had stripped his coat and scarf and locked himself in the bathroom. I knocked on the door.

No reply.

…The most important things are the hardest to say, because words diminish them…

The floor creaked, I shifted off my numb asscheek onto my other and let my head roll back against the wall. From inside the bathroom, the sound of a bath being drained. About time. I'd been sitting there for three hours, waiting for him to get out, putting off doing a rather important report so he couldn't slip past unnoticed. I took my glasses off and whipped the lenses on my shirt.

The gurgle of the draining tub slowed and quietened, I looked up when the door cracked open, steam pouring out sweet scented and deliciously warm. He froze in the doorway, towel wrapped around himself, hair dripping. My heart fluttered in my chest. I looked into his eyes when they fixed on me, and so we remained for almost a whole minute, staring at each other, taking in what we saw.

He would have seen me slumped against a wall, shirt untucked, hair scruffy from all the times I had ran my hand through it. Maybe he wouldn't notice the slight red rims around my eyes, the ones caused by almost tears, maybe he wouldn't notice my nails gnawed short and bleeding on my left hand.

But I saw him, wet and shining, water pearling on steaming opalescent skin and dripping down his cheeks and shoulders. The ruffles of fluffy towel barely concealing the rise of his ass, the curve of his waist, a dark nipple peaking from the side of his makeshift modesty.

I stood up slowly and pushed my glasses further up my nose.

"m'sorry." I managed, dropping my hands hopelessly to my sides. "I d'dnt mean it."

Unable to say anymore, I stood there awkwardly, waiting for a reaction. He gave none, so I resigned, turning and walking back down the hall toward the sitting room, feeling more and more like a monster with every step I took.

…Don't speak unless you can improve on the silence…

I lay in bed, gazing at the canopy of the bed and thinking on the body of the man beside me.

What was even the point? Why did he stay, if all we ever did was have one sided arguments and edge around each other? What was a piteous make up hug worth, anyway? We would lie here for a while, soon he will begin talking, and then tomorrow it would all be back to normal. Me being unable to say what I want, him talking at me like I was a brick wall. Distance, misunderstanding, anxiety.

I hated it. I hated it so goddamned much. Even if I could use words, I wouldn't be able to find any that express this feeling of hopelessness and misery digging into my chest.

_But I really, really love him!_

More than anything in the world. I loved him so much it brought tears to my eyes; I loved him so much it ached.

Like someone sliding wooden pins beneath my skin, he was as much a part of me as my bones and blood. He was my sun weeping across the snowy horizon, my moon illuminating foggy ghosts in the dead of night. He was my feather comforter, perfectly soft and warm and safe, and always slipping off me when I wasn't paying attention.

I loved this man more than life itself. But the thought of actually telling him soured the taste of my saliva in my mouth. It made my palms slick with sweat and my stomach churn horribly.

Instead, I rolled onto my side and jumped, when I saw he was lying there peaking over the top of the blankets. Watching me.

"Go t' sleep." I told him, stroking his hair. He batted his eyes and nuzzled the pillow, wordless. He hadn't spoken a single word since my out burst in the snow. It would only be a matter of time.

I closed my eyes and sighed, willing my tongue to form the thing I wanted to without a fuss. Remembering the sound, the long vowels, the shape I had to make with my mouth…

"Tino…" I tried to force the word, but not speak to loudly. It was hard, and slow, but I managed. "I'm really… sorry." I screwed up my brow in thought. "I didn't mean… to s-sound. Like it did."

After that effort I felt I could never speak another word again. I cracked open one eye, trying to read his reaction. Difficult, considering he had the blanket drawn up over his mouth.

"You… know I… care. Right?"

He nodded and I swallowed all the spit that had pooled in my mouth.

"Good."

And that was it. All I could say to make this whole horrible experience better.

It was nowhere near enough.

Not feeling better at all, I rolled onto my back and wiped my forehead loosely. Sweat was beading there, and sticking my hair to my face. God knows why, it wasn't hot, even with air con. The steady tick of the clock on our wall slew the quiet every second, but it returned again full and thick at the fade of each tick. Webs of unexpressed emotion tangled in my mind, I tossed my head and tried not to scream.

The cautious hand finding mine under the blanket shocked me; it sent a powerful pulse of affection and agonising infatuation pounding into my chest. A feeling almost like being hit by a train. He squeezed my hand and settled down.

Somewhere in the throes of misery and madness and self hatred, the feel of his palm was a calming, soft voice. It spoke clearly, echoing in me, flooding my body and my mind.

And in the middle of the night, filled with the most complex stew of emotion and solely aware of his touch, I understood he spoke more to me then than he ever had before.

…Good communication does not mean that you have to speak in perfectly formed sentences and paragraphs. It isn't about slickness. Simple and clear go a long way….

The dawn broke and I was stirred not by the crow of a rooster or the bleep of an alarm, but by the gentle whisper of warm breath against my shoulder.

Its amazing what a good sleep can do, how well rest banishes all worries and fears from your mind. I found myself smiling when I looked to his sleeping face, noticing our fingers were still tangled beneath the blankets. My chest felt light and my tongue relaxed. No words lingered on the tip, I had nothing to say. The only thing I wanted in that moment, the only thing I was aware of, was his closeness. The intimacy of his touch.

I loosed my fingers from his and hugged him, smiling peacefully. He shuffled and opened an eye.

_God morgon su-san._

His regular greeting, I waited for it for a moment, a little confused when it never came. Instead, he lay there peacefully, gazing at me through half lidded eyes, small smile curving ice pink lips.

Well, that was strange.

Still not feeling the need to say something, I nuzzled his neck, where his jaw met his ear, and he giggled. Soft fingers brushed the sweep of my collarbone; I smiled and pressed my lips to his skin, just at his hairline at the side of his neck.

It was something I had never done before, something I had longed to do for so long, but id never had the guts.

Yet I did it so damn easily, without thinking even, that I didn't realise until afterward, when his arms had wrapped around my neck and he had tilted his chin up to accept a gentle, cautious kiss.

Just like that, I kissed him. Just like that.

There was no thought put into it. There was no plan or idea or sudden inspiration. It was an accident, almost, done unintentionally and feeling as natural and normal and good as the sun on my face or the wind in my hair. We were just… kissing. Just kissing. And when I pulled away carefully, cautiously, understanding what had just happened, he was still smiling.

His lips had tasted like coconut ice, they were silked and warm, pressed gently on mine, and had given just the right amount, taking just a little less than I was willing to give. He licked them swiftly and cupped my face in his hands, giving another. My eyes fluttered shut and I kissed back, tilting my head a little and parting my lips. His tongue flicked at mine teasingly, I nudged back and pushed my face forward, pressing his head back into the pillow.

Strange my heartbeat should be so normal, as though this was something I was used to. My head was swimming in what seemed like pure bliss, all I could think was of him, Tino, Fin. All I could smell was the faint soap still lingering from his bath, mixed with the heady scent of my own sweat. My hands fisted the sheets either side of his waist and I leaned in closer, daring to delve inside his mouth with the tip of my tongue. He let me, without so much of an utterance of complaint, massaging my tongue as I mapped out every small crevasse and spot inside his mouth. Warm, wet, sweet tasting, I pulled away reluctantly and a shining webby string of spit joined us, snapping and splattering on his chin. He laughed and I licked it off.

Delirious, I guess you could call it. The delirious, thoughtless happiness the moment inspired in me. It was clear like summer sky blue, as cool and light and refreshing as snow. It smelt like air and open spaces, I felt as though I'd float away if he released me in that moment. I clutched him to me and we tumbled around, kissing, giggling, touching. I traced his outline with the flat of my palms, his chest and hips and thighs beneath a baggy shirt, he rolled into my touch and purred, letting me rain light butterfly kisses all over his face and neck and torso. The rough cotton of his clothes was harsh on my sensitive lips, but I didn't really notice. His hands were rubbing my shoulders, caressing my throat and neck and nape, stroking my hair and exploring me finely with delicacy not unlike a feather brush. Slow, languid, liquid. Delicious.

Words are foolish, silly little things. They escape me when I feel I could express them best, but oddly enough I didn't mind. The need to talk while touching him was marginal, I found I could talk louder with each kiss than I ever could with clumsy language. When we are wrapped like this, it's as though I can read his mind. His touches are explorative and cautious, searching me, but in reality they tell me much more than his lips have ever said. I tried to pour meaning into my touch too, trying to make him comprehend my thoughts when his leg slipped between my thighs, when his hands fanned the span of my back.

With lacy daintiness he pecked along my jaw, I clutched him to me and moaned a soft surrender, my fingers drawing tight circles on the side of his torso, body trembling at the power in his lips. The sheets rustled in their crisp, clean linen way, fluttering the smell of approaching summer and lush grass toward me. My senses were inflamed, my heart was light.

He delivered another kiss, a sweet, slow little tease, and slid out of my arms and out of bed. He patted my cheek and stretched, I propped myself up on my elbow and smiled at him, kissing his knuckles and making him blush.

"Su-san, I-"

"Ah!" I grinned and clamped my hand over his mouth. "d'nt tell me. jus' do it."

His eyes closed, he smiled into my palm and licked softly, before straightening up and beginning to unbutton his shirt.

The first button, revealing a sharp proud collarbone, the curve of his throat hollowing at the base and pooling into a trembling, reverberating cache for his sugary magical voice. The second button, my first peak at the cleave of his chest, smooth and hairless and pale as whipped cream with vanilla. Fresh as snowdrops and lemongrass. The third button popped to expose his chest completely, his heart beneath a delicate ribcage, a pair of dusky, pert nipples. I'd never seen so much of his skin before, I'd never noticed how almost transparent it was, flawless over a frame seemingly cast in glass. When he opened the fourth button, I glimpsed the top of his stomach, curving slightly inward and not bulging, but almost not quite flat. The fifth and final button, he let the shirt slide off his shoulders and crumple on the floor.

He was standing naked before the bed, shoulders relaxed, smiling subtly. I followed the faint silvery blonde path of hair from his stomach button with my eyes, sailing down to the triangle of golden curls nestled between his lithe legs.

Mouth watering and saccharine, he held out his hands palms forward.

_What do you think?_

"You're beautiful." I managed, blushing when the words came out on a breath, light and simple.

His smile lit up my world.

I dragged myself out of bed and slipped off my underwear. The feel of him regarding me wasn't uncomfortable, I felt… no more naked than I normally would, being naked. His flushed cheeks and shy grin told me all I wanted to know.

_I like it, Su-san._

We stood there until I remembered that now I could embrace him. I did so, we cuddled. Skin to skin, his face buried against my chest, until the alarm went of and I remembered I had to go to work.

He gave me another wordless kiss on my way out the door.

…The language of the body is the key that can unlock the soul…


End file.
